Torture
by Amabel
Summary: She never meant to seduce him by baking cookies. One-shot, EB fluff.


**AN:** Just a one-shot that I was inspired to write while baking cookies. I feel bad for myself. It's pretty pathetic when _anything_ reminds you of Twilight... :)

Guess what! Stephenie's new science-fiction novel, The Host, debued at numder 1 on the NYTimes Bestseller List. Isn't that awesome? If you haven't read it, you're seriously missing out.

**Disclaimer:** If I owned Twilight, then I'd be on tour right now, instead of bored out of my mind... In other words, Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer. I'm just playing with her ingenious characters for a bit.

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Edward sat at his customary chair in Charlie's small kitchen, watching Bella more closely than a hawk. His eyes followed her every move, and seemed to anticipate the one following. His not needing to blink came in handy; he took advantage of this skill, never glancing away from the small brunette moving about in front of him.

Bella hardly seemed to notice the undue attention. She always felt as though she was in her own world when she cooked, and this was no exception. Bella knew her way around the kitchen and had the chocolate chip cookie recipe memorized, so she felt free to let her mind wander to other things.

Oddly, the lack of attention she gave the cookies seemed to help her in the clumsiness department. Never once did she trip, drop an egg, or turn on the mixer too high and cover the walls and herself with flour. Edward was sure that this wasn't for lack of trying. Several times he had caught his breath and nearly leapt out of his seat to avert what he was sure was an impending disaster.

Once he managed to relax, though, Edward watched Bella for a different reason. When she cooked, she was in her element. And when she was in her element, she was beautiful. Her movements were sultry and intoxicating. This was an accidental oversight on Bella's part. She never meant to seduce Edward by baking cookies.

As she moved back and forth across the kitchen, her strides were long, and every step had a purpose. Her feet seemed to know exactly how many steps were required for each destination, making her look like a model walking down a runway whenever she went to grab the sugar out of the cupboard. Her hips swayed and her pivots were flawless. She nearly drove Edward mad.

He thought that he would be grateful when she finished making the dough and began to place it on the cookie sheets. He was wrong. Her motions were simple and direct. She would scoop a ball of dough out of the bowl, then shift her weight to bring her in front of the tray. Then she would shift her weight back to the other foot and begin the process again. Years of experience had made her quite deft, so it took her only three minutes or so to fill the sheet. Every one of those minutes was torture for Edward.

The sequence of movements looked like a dance. It was all he could do not to grab her and carry her off. Instead he lowered his head in his hands, and tried to think of something other than the way Bella moved before him, her T-shirt riding up to expose a sliver of her perfect back, her muscles flexing under her jeans, her hair softly brushing against her shoulders. He maintained this position for less then thirty seconds before giving up and returning his gaze to the woman baking before him.

The cookies were in the oven shortly thereafter, and Bella turned to Edward with a smile. Edward grinned at her crookedly and held his arms open. She walked over to him and climbed in his lap, where he held her tightly. She picked up his hand from where it rested on her stomach and kissed his palm, making him groan.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" She chuckled in reply, and he mocked glared at her. "I can't wait until you're all mine," he said, longing coloring his voice. Bella looked up at him.

"Only another month. I'm glad we were allowed a day to ourselves, at least. I've been wanting to make cookies forever."

Edward looked at her, confused. "Why?"

"I don't really know. It's therapeutic to me, I guess. Everything's exact, and the outcome is always the same. The dough doesn't taste too bad either…"

"It's not very therapeutic for me."

"What do you mean?" It was Bella's turn to be confused.

"Watching you… It nearly drove me mad. You have no idea how you look when—"

Edward stopped short as the timer for the cookies interrupted his explanation. Hiding a smile, Bella climbed out of his lap and fetched a hot pad.

Silence fell over the kitchen once again as Bella switched the timer off and opened the oven. Edward swore that he heard a giggle as she bent over to check the status of the cookies, inadvertently presenting her backside to him. He swallowed hard as she stood up, bringing the hot cookie sheets with her. She set the sheets on the stovetop and pulled a cooling rack out of a cupboard by her knees.

Edward closed his eyes momentarily and tried to still his desire to carry her off to his room. Or hers, as it was closer…

He opened his eyes to her transferring the cookies to the rack, her hips moving at twice the speed they were before. This time, he couldn't contain himself. He was out of his chair and pressed up behind her with his lips at her neck faster than the blink of an eye.

Her hands stilled and she let her head fall back as he moved his lips along the curve of her neck. Her breath cam in short gasps. Slowly, he turned her around in his arms, his mouth never leaving her skin. She opened her eyes to meet his, her wide and dilated, his liquid gold. He searched her face for a brief second before pressing his lips to hers fiercely. Before she had time to react, he pulled away and grinned at her.

"_That_ is what I mean," he said.

She couldn't have spoken if she wanted to.

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**Reviews are like chocolate. ;) I think I'm addicted...**


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